


The Prince's Bride

by Camelittle



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comedy of Errors, F/F, Forced Marriage, M/M, Mail Order Brides, Mildly Dubious Consent, Misunderstandings, Modern Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 18:57:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4111513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camelittle/pseuds/Camelittle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After much deliberation, and without ceremony, King Uther Pendragon finds suitable mail-order spouses for his children. Once all the paperwork has been finalised, the newlyweds finally meet their life partners in the most romantic location that Uther can imagine - on a private island in the Caribbean, far from the prying eyes of the paparazzi.</p><p>What could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prince's Bride

**Author's Note:**

> The mild dubiousness of the consent reflects the forced nature of the marriages. For the "Royalty" and "Mail-Order Bride/Groom" squares on my Merlin-Writers Tropes Bingo card.

Morgana was surprised by how much she liked her father’s choice.

She had imagined that Uther would choose some arrogant brute of a man with a magical pedigree a mile long. _‘To further your Pendragon heritage’._ She could almost hear the pompous tone of his voice, in her head, speaking those very words. But, no.

The chosen one stood before her, just inside the beach-front apartment, head demurely lowered, exquisite pale bridal garments emphasizing the enticing warmth of dark skin.

“Come in, love. What’s your name?” said Morgana, closing the door.

“Gwen, your grace,” she replied, looking at Morgana through long lashes.

With her anxious expression and womanly curves, Gwen looked more like the sort of bride that Uther would have chosen for Morgana’s brother than for her. The normally old-fashioned Uther had stressed the fact that he wanted grandchildren. But Morgana had made no secret of her sexual orientation. Maybe the domineering sod had softened in his old age.

It seemed unlikely, but then here Gwen was. Hardly daring to believe her good fortune, Morgana reached out a hand to touch the soft, trembling  flesh of Gwen’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Gwen,” said Morgana, gently tucking a long ringlet behind Gwen’s ear. “I will take good care of you, I promise.”

Taking Gwen’s hand, she led her through the apartment and out onto the balcony.

Gwen gasped and bit her lip when she saw the view. Sparkling ripples on a sun-drenched sea, and the finest pale-gold sand that stretched from side to side as if swept across by an invisible hand.

When Morgana looked closely, she could see that the dazzling sparks on the sea were mirrored by the way that Gwen’s brimming eyes shone, wet with unshed tears.

“What’s the matter?” she said, carefully thumbing a solitary teardrop away from Gwen’s cheek to avoid smudging her mascara.

“It’s just-- you’re not what I-- I mean, the agency didn’t tell me you’d be a woman. I mean, so sweet. I mean, I was expecting some great, hairy, beastly man, and here you are, so beautiful and kind.” Gwen stopped speaking abruptly, and bit her lip again, looking away. “Oops! I’m not meant to talk about--”

She was as sweet and awkward as a baby deer, and Morgana really couldn’t help it. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to Gwen’s, so soft and full were they, and felt her heart thump as if it wanted to jump out of its chest.

“There, now,” she said. “And there was me thinking much the same thing! About nasty, smelly men, I mean.”

“It looks like we were both misled in the happiest possible way, your grace.”  The dimples that popped into Gwen’s cheeks when she smiled made her look mischievous.

“Please,” murmured Morgana, taking her hand. “Call me Morgana.”

As they kissed by the glorious light of a spectacular sunset, she fleetingly wondered if her brother had been so lucky.

*

The man’s eyes widened when Arthur flung open the door.

“Who the fuck are you?” said Arthur, frowning at him and looking him up and down. He was dressed in full morning dress, complete with buttonhole and top hat. He looked like he was going to a wedding in bloody Surrey or something, not some remote private island in the Caribbean.  

“I might ask you the same thing,” said the man. “Although the fact that you’re an arrogant, puffed-up, conceited ass is self evident.”

Arthur was aghast.

“I...” he said pointing to his chest to emphasize his own importance, “...am Prince Arthur Pendragon. And I am expecting the bride my father has chosen for me. Someone with…” he sketched out the the curves of a woman’s body in the air. “Not some…” words failed him for a moment as he gathered his thoughts for a pithy statement that encompassed all his disdain. “Some…rude, scruffy-haired, half-bearded pillock in a ring-master’s costume.”

Pillock. The name suited him.

The noise that Pillock made was a small one, but it eloquently conveyed his contempt for Pendragons in general and Prince Arthur in particular.

“Be careful who you insult, prat,” said Pillock. 

“Ha!" huffed Arthur. "Why should I be careful of a blithering idiot like you?” The wedding suit was well-made, and didn’t hide his would-be spouse's skinny frame. “You look like I could take you apart with one blow.”

“Ha!" echoed Pillock. "Well I could take you apart with less than that.” 

The glowering expression on his face looked comical under the brim of that ridiculous hat, and Arthur suddenly had to fight down the urge to laugh.

“Whyever might you think that?”

“Because, well. Because I...” Pillock continued, removing said hat and ruffling his hair with his free hand. He stepped up over the threshold, crowding Arthur so that he had to move back two paces to accommodate him. “I am Merlin Emrys. Sorcerer, and mail-order groom. At your service.” He bowed, mockingly. “Although I have to admit, you’re not what I was expecting at all.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off the headache that threatened to overwhelm him, Arthur turned, beckoning Merlin through.

“There must have been some mistake,” he said.

“Aye, I’m thinking you’re right.”

But when they checked all the certificates and declarations, even Arthur couldn't find any mistakes.

“According to this paperwork we’re already married,” said Merlin, scratching at the stubble that littered his chin. “How is that even possible?” He didn’t look much happier than Arthur about the situation.

“This is intolerable,” said Arthur, trying to ignore Merlin’s mock-hurt expression.

“Insufferable,” Merlin replied, scowling at him. “I mean, you’re easy on the eye, but boy do you have a rude mouth on you.”

“Says the man who has done nothing but abuse his host since the second he arrived.”

To be honest, Merlin’s mouth was not only rude, but positively obscene. Arthur could well imagine a more pleasant use for those insultingly full, plush lips and that oh-so-clever tongue.

Banishing those thoughts, Arthur picked up his phone. Due to the time zone they were in, his father would not be available at this time, so he selected _Evil Harpy_ from his contacts list instead, and pressed the green call button.

He was almost surprised when she answered.

“Brother, dear. What an unexpected pleasure. Well, unexpected anyway.”

“Oh ha ha. Listen, has your partner come yet?” Arthur said.

“Oh, yes.” If Morgana had been any more contented, she’d be purring. “My partner has come all right.”

Puzzlement gave way very quickly to horror.

“Oh God, Morgana. Too much information!”

“Well you did ask, little brother. Look, go away and enjoy your new bride. I’m sure that if Uther managed to find someone so perfect for me, the black sheep of the family, he’ll have done even better for his oh-so-beloved golden boy.”

The bitterness in her voice wasn’t even biting, today, and for a brief second Arthur wondered what sort of a miracle-worker her new spouse could possibly be, but then the conversation was abruptly terminated from Morgana’s end. And after repeated redirections to her voicemail box, he realised that she’d turned her phone off.

He looked up at his so-called bride, who had stripped off the outer layers of his wedding outfit and was standing on the balcony, gazing out to sea with a wistful expression on his face. From this angle, Arthur could see soft curls of his black hair jutting over slightly too-wide ears. On anyone else those ears would look faintly ridiculous, but they lent Merlin an air of otherworldliness that suited him. Finding himself suddenly inexplicably wondering how soft the skin might be on the lobes, Arthur pursed his lips. 

“None of this was my idea, you know,” he said, tamping down these confusing feelings and crossing the room to stand by Merlin’s side.

Merlin swallowed, looking suddenly vulnerable as he turned his head towards Arthur.

“Me neither,” he said, shaking his head.

“My father-- has particular notions about honour and such. I suppose he had reasons for choosing you, but it does seem like you were deceived about me. Is it true that you’re a sorcerer?”  Arthur wondered what had happened to make such a proud man submit to being a mail-order spouse.

“Yeah. It’s part of my bloodline. Kil-- my mentor said that it would help me to marry well, if I declared it on the form.”

Arthur frowned. Trust Uther to be concerned about things like bloodlines.

Merlin’s features were not unpleasant, he had to allow. His cheekbones were stark in the fading golden light from the sun as it swiftly shrank to a small crescent before disappearing below the horizon. Arthur had always been attracted to slender men. But he’d thought he had kept his bisexuality secret. As far as he knew, Uther had been expecting to shack him up with some buxom woman with a kind smile and childbearing hips.

There had clearly been some terrible error.

Sighing, Arthur tugged on Merlin's arm.

“Come on,” he said, all bluster gone, vanished in a blaze of glory like the furnace-like heat of the sun. “Mosquitos will eat us alive out here. Let’s go in and have a few beers. We can sort out nullifying this ridiculous sham of a marriage in the morning.”

“Seems like you’re not such a prat, after all.” When Merlin turned to him, then, his eyes were soft and admiring. “But won’t that get you in trouble with your father?”

“Maybe.” Arthur shrugged. “But it wouldn’t be fair on you to carry on with this charade.”

A mischievous smirk flitted across Merlin’s face.

“Well,” he said, eyes flicking momentarily down towards Arthur’s mouth in a clear invitation. “Let’s not be too hasty.”

At first, when Merlin kissed him, he was too surprised to pull away. But that was nothing to the surprise he felt when he found his body responding enthusiastically. Because, oh, the soft warmth of those plump lips on his. The thrill of hot skin under his fingers. They kissed until Arthur felt giddy, until suddenly he found himself backing up against the edge of a sofa, with long fingers curving round his cock, a faint scent of cologne, and the rough sensation of stubble against his neck.

But the best, the very best moment, the moment that made it all seem worthwhile, was when at long last he buried his now full length into Merlin’s wanton mouth. Merlin let out a tiny noise,  no more than a whimper, and then Arthur was engulfed in perfect heat.

When his phone sounded, the next morning, and the name _Evil Harpy_ flashed up on his screen, he let it go to voicemail.

*

“I am not a patient man!” yelled Uther Pendragon into the telephone. “This utter shambles is your fault, Gaius. Find that bloody Dragon Matchmaking Agency and get them to fix it. How they could possibly have mixed up the names Arthur and Morgana on the marriage certificates…”

“It’s a simple clerical error, sire. Unfortunately, the agency seems to have gone out of business shortly after your two children were married.” Gaius sounded too bloody calm by half. “Perhaps, sire, if the arrangements had been somewhat less… irregular…”

“How dare you!” Unused to things going so spectacularly against his wishes, Uther was livid. “There must be something you can do, Gaius! Get these marriages anulled immediately!” He ended the call, breathing heavily, and looked up at his equerry. “Geoffrey; there must be something in the constitution—”

“Unfortunately, Your Majesty, it does seem that if your children do not wish to divorce, then there’s nothing that you can do.”

With a frustrated bellow, the king stalked out of the room, slamming the door in his wake.

*

Far away across the ocean, a dragon chuckled.


End file.
